


Interlude of Privacy

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Twelve [2]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Trope Bingo Round 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Separated from their team and alone in an abandoned hangar in the frozen north during a blizzard, Prowl and Jazz play an old trope straight.





	Interlude of Privacy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 12](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/tag/round+twelve). Prompt: Huddle for warmth

Jazz wasn’t sure exactly how he and Prowl’d gotten separated from the rest of the team during what _should_ have been a PR thing. Autobots observing experimental human technology, an aircraft of some sort this time. It was nothing they hadn’t done a dozen times before, this time at a mostly-abandoned military airfield somewhere in the Canadian territory of Nunavut. Jazz knew the specs on the aircraft, and it wasn’t anything so special it should have attracted the ‘Cons, but it had.

Then again, he was pretty sure Prime had agreed to this just to look at the Northern Lights again so maybe Starscream had decided to attack just for scrap and laughs. The joke was on Screamer, though. It was common knowledge that Starscream hated flying in the snow, so the blizzard that came out of nowhere seemed like just desserts. It’d helped drive the Seekers off, all right, but it had also gotten Jazz and Prowl separated from the others in the whiteout. Prowl’d taken a hit and was leaning on Jazz and limping while Jazz pushed through the snow – not half so pretty when it was driving right in your faceplate – to one of the hangars he could, just barely, pick out on his scanners.

Jazz managed to find and break the lock and get one of the doors shoved far enough out of the way for them to enter. He half-guided half-pulled Prowl inside and far enough away the tactician was out of the wind, then helped the other mech sit down on the concrete floor.

“Okay, Prowl,” Jazz said, straightening up. “I’m gonna get those doors closed you just, ah – “

“Chill?” Prowl inquired drily. “I fear I’ve little choice.” He nodded toward the doors. “Go on. I’ll be okay.”

“Be right back.”

Jazz got the doors mostly closed, so they’d at least keep most of the wind and snow out. Not perfect but it could be worse.

“Gonna get real cold up in here real fast,” Jazz noted, walking back to Prowl. “Humidity’s nasty too. How you doing, Prowl? Your self-repair systems running okay?”

“Yes,” the tactician replied, leaning back against the wall. “But it will be some time before I’m mobile again. Transforming made the injury worse.”

“Yeah, well, not like you had a choice.” Jazz looked around. “Looks like you’ll be okay there for a bit longer, Prowl. I’m gonna find a spot to get the shelter set up.”

If this airplane hangar was anything like the dedicated flight-alt repair buildings on Cybertron, there should be…yup, a storage area.

The storage area, effectively a warehouse inside the larger building, was high enough for Jazz to stand in and wide enough he could put up his emergency shelter – barely. It’d do. He’d’ve liked somewhere more defensible but if the ‘Cons had been defeated they’d likely flown off to lick their wounds somewhere. Jazz didn’t particularly care where, just so long as it wasn’t here.

Shelter set up – he’d kept one ever since the time he’d gotten trapped without one in the Manganese Mountains and man, that had _not_ been fun – he went back out for Prowl.

“I’ve been trying to get a signal out,” Prowl said when Jazz got close. “The storm is interfering with my transmission, but there is a sixty-three-point-five-five-eight percent chance I was successful. It’s unlikely the others have gone far, and I doubt they’ll have left the base. I’ll try to make contact again in another two cycles.”

“Sounds good. I found a spot and got the shelter set up. Lemme give you a hand, there.” Jazz helped Prowl up, putting the tactician’s right arm over his shoulders and taking some of the weight off Prowl’s damaged leg. “I gotcha, Prowler.”

Prowl managed a small smile. “You always do, Jazz.”

“Always happy to help out a friend,” Jazz replied.

“Yes,” Prowl murmured. “I know.”

Not that Jazz wouldn’t be willing to be more than friends, but that’d only happen on Prowl’s say-so. Otherwise, Jazz figured he’d come across as one of those creeps that just acted friendly to get under someone’s panels. Not what was happening, and not his style. He’d flirted, Prowl hadn’t responded, and that was that.

The emergency shelter was technically meant for one, but Jazz had snagged one intended for a bigger mech than himself, and it would hold him and Prowl if they managed the space carefully. They could have survived in the building without it, but the small area would contain their heat better. That was going to be important, especially with Prowl injured. The less Prowl’s systems had to work to keep him warm the more power could be diverted to self-repair and the faster the repairs would be done.

Jazz helped Prowl into the shelter – it was a bit tricky because only one of them could fit through the entrance at once and Prowl was trying not to put weight on his leg – then followed him.

Prowl had curled up on his uninjured side, facing the wall of the tent. Spooning was nearly the only way they could both fit unless they wanted to be on top of each other. Jazz did not point that out – not the time or place even if Prowl were interested. It’d also let Jazz keep Prowl warm with the heat of his own structure.

Jazz made sure the padded bottom of the shelter, which also served as a recharge pad, was working correctly and lay down, bumper nestled under Prowl’s doors.

“This okay?” he asked, cautiously wrapping his right arm over his friend’s waist.

“Yes. You surprise me, Jazz,” Prowl said.

“Just in general or you got something specific in mind?”

“Because you’re always positive. Because you’re always looking out for me.” Prowl’s hand found his. “Thank you. Not just for this. For the care you always take of me.”

“Yeah, well,” Jazz shifted a little, resettling his head on his bent left arm. “Someone has to. You’d work yourself into stasis if someone didn’t come to drag you out of it and make you refuel every so often.”

“And you enjoy having someone to look after.” Prowl knew him well.

“Yeah, guess I do.” Well, and more than that when it came to Prowl. Quiet, brilliant, handsome, attractive, introverted, oblivious Prowl.

“I know you do. Jazz, at any time since you began to bring me fuel, I could have set an internal alarm to remind me to take breaks and refuel. I enjoy your company, your – attentions.” Prowl’s thumb rubbed over Jazz’s. “I have not said it enough but – I truly do appreciate your care. Very much. I-I want you to know – it is reciprocated. In – in full.”

Jazz was accomplished at thinking fast, kinda came with the Spec Ops territory, but intentionally or not Prowl’d just dumped him in the scraplet pit by letting him know that maybe Prowl wasn’t as oblivious as he’d thought.

The torch Jazz carried for Prowl was one he’d been carrying for a _long_ time, way longer than was reasonable. He’d decided well before work on the _Ark_ started that it was never going to get noticed. And, you know, that was fine. He was good with that, really. Jazz liked to look after all his friends, and he didn’t expect a relationship as repayment from Prowl any more than he did from the rest them – only total assholes, as Sparkplug would say, did that. Besides, it was _Prowl_.

Prowl didn’t _do_ romantic. Prowl didn’t _do_ relationships. If the mech had ‘faced anyone in the time Jazz had known him he’d managed to do so with supernatural discretion. (If there was anything besides the Prime and fighting the Decepticons Autobots were devoted to, it was base gossip.) So, Jazz had figured they could be friends, but never be anything more than that and, Primus dammit, he’d been _okay_ with that! Pining and sighing over the mech you were into but who wasn’t into you was adolescent slag.

Prowl had gone very still. “Jazz?” There was a thin thread of worry in the tactician’s voice.

 _Scrap_. Prowl didn’t do romantic, and Prowl didn’t do relationships, and here he was confessing something significant to Jazz and getting the silent treatment. Jazz, who _did_ do romantic and _did_ do relationships and who should know better than to leave Prowl, of all mecha, hanging like that.

“Just – surprised. Good surprised!” Jazz hastened to add. “Didn’t realize you were into me like that.”

“It took me a while,” Prowl admitted. “I finally realized you may have feelings stronger than friendship and calculated a ninety-seven-point-eight-eight-nine probability that you desired a romantic relationship with me shortly before the _Ark_ left Cybertron.”

This was getting into areas that Jazz had thought Prowl wasn’t interested in driving to. Jazz had had his engine revved to go there for a long damn time, though.

“Your calculations are off,” Jazz said, looking at the glow of Prowl’s optics reflected on the shelter wall. He wondered if being close without being able to look at him had given Prowl the courage to speak. “Should’ve been a hundred percent.”

“The remaining two-point-one-one-one percent was the probability you wished for something that would be only casual.”

“Kinda got the impression you don’t do casual flings.” It’d been more like ‘relationships at all’ but Prowl rarely opened up emotionally like this, and Jazz absolutely did not want him shutting down again. ‘Sides, Jazz apparently didn’t have anywhere near as good a read on Prowl as he thought he did.

“With whom could I have one?” Prowl pointed out. “The only two Autobots who approach my rank are you and Optimus, and it’s been some time since he and I were able to meet discreetly.”

Jazz let that sink in for a half nano-klik. Then he laughed. “You slagger! Had me fooled – I thought all those ‘strategy meetings’ were just that!”

“Some of them were, others – less so.” Was that – amusement in Prowl’s voice. It was! “It was a friendly arrangement, however, not a romantic one.”

Only Prowl would describe being friends with benefits with the Prime so casually. “Well, here’s hoping when we get around to crossing cables I can measure up.”

“Would you like to test that hypothesis now?”

Jazz reset his optics in surprise, and not just because some of his fantasies had involved Prowl using almost that exact phrase, but also because Prowl was hurt. “Prowl, I’m not sure this is the time.”

“Why not? Alone, in the Arctic, sheltering in a tent in a hangar in a raging blizzard…Jazz, this is the one place we are guaranteed not to be interrupted.”

“Yeah, but you’re hurt,” Jazz tried. He wanted to – oh, _man_ , did he ever want to! – but he needed Prowl to be clear-headed. Besides, did Prowl even feel like moving? If they were gonna do this, Jazz wanted to see his face, get a kiss or twenty or more.

“My injured leg doesn’t prevent a network connection or my provision of informed consent.” Prowl paused. “Unless you don’t…”

“I do,” Jazz assured him fervently. “Oh, _believe_ me, mech, I _do_. Just wanna look at you while we’re ‘facing, least the first time, that’s all.”

Prowl lifted Jazz’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “I would like that as well. Help me onto my back?”

They got themselves resettled, Jazz helping Prowl change position without moving his leg too much. Jazz managed to find a position where they could kiss, with Jazz pressed up against Prowl’s side and leaning over with the other mech’s helm cupped in his hand.

“Been wanting this for a long time,” Jazz said softly, gazing down into Prowl’s sternly handsome face.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” Prowl promised and smiled. “Come here,” he said, drawing Jazz down to him.

The kiss was good. Not striking-sparks, lights-from-heaven fantastic, but good. Didn’t matter. They had time to teach each other what they liked. Besides, it was _Prowl._ If he had asked Jazz just to lie there and kiss him till the snow let up, Jazz would’ve done it if Prowl’d been the worst kisser in history.

Prowl trailed his fingers along the transformation seam below Jazz’s bumper, and the saboteur’s systems hitched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d crossed cables with someone who’d found that right away.

“There is a significant advantage in having similar structures,” Prowl murmured, breaking the kiss to watch Jazz’s reactions.

Jazz got the hint, using what he enjoyed on himself to do his best to turn Prowl into a gasping, needy pile of mech beneath him. Not that he just did what he liked, no, no. He’d picked up from Bluestreak and Smokescreen over the millennia that door hinges were a sweet spot for their superstructure-type and… _Oh_ yeah! It worked on Prowl too, beautifully.

Prowl got his own back, though, bringing Jazz’s wrist to his mouth as soon as Jazz opened his panels and running the tip of his tongue in a lazy circle around the edge of the port.

“Frag, yeah!” Jazz gasped. _Licking_ was too plain a word for how that felt! And the chemical secretion Prowl was laving his metal with would carry a charge so when Prowl jacked in it would be _intense_. “’s good, Prowl!”

Prowl gave him a knowing smile, slipped two fingers into his own mouth to wet them, and reached down to Jazz’s open hip port, still lavishing the one in his wrist with attention. It felt incredible, amazing, and Jazz wished he could do the same for Prowl. But the tactician had both hands free, and Jazz only had one because he was bracing himself on the other.

“I wanna touch you,” Jazz managed, through the great distraction that was Prowl working him up. “Okay if I’m over top of you?”

Prowl’s optics went slate blue with lust and Jazz knew he’d asked the right question. An image went through his mind of Prowl covered by twice-his-size Optimus, both eager and wanting, each of them jacked into the other’s every port, and it was _gorgeous_. Jazz wondered if Prowl was into threesomes ‘cause he _would not mind_ being a part of that sandwich.

“Very okay,” Prowl said throatily. “Yes, Jazz, please!”

Jazz straddled his new lover, careful of Prowl’s injured leg, locking the joints in his right leg so he wouldn’t accidentally jar the wound. “Like this?” Jazz asked from his new position astride Prowl’s thighs.

Prowl reached for Jazz’s other hip port. “Just like that.”

Jazz caught Prowl’s hand, lifted the wrist to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the port, darted a lick over the surface, smooth metal against his tongue tasting of copper. “Good, ‘cause I like it here. Put you under me any time you ask.”

Prowl grasped Jazz’s hip with his free hand, dragged his thumb along the juncture where it met the thigh. “I’ll ask you often, then. _Oh!_ ”

Jazz had hummed against the port pressed to his lips. He did it again, and Prowl shivered. “Like that?” he teased and did it again.

“Yes! Oh, _Jazz_ …”

Jazz had been wondering for a very long time what Prowl moaning his designation would sound like. _Hotter than he’d ever fragging imagined_ was the answer. Prowl reached up and put his other hand on Jazz’s face; Jazz pressed a kiss into the palm.

“Connect with me,” Prowl requested. “I want to show you so much. To show you,” he brushed his thumb over Jazz’s mouth, “everything.”

 _Everything_. Just Jazz and Prowl, barriers and firewalls down, minds open, sensory data flowing back and forth, building and building…

Jazz guided Prowl’s hands to his cables. “Do it.”

Prowl jacked them into each other, hip port to hip port, and Jazz shuddered. He could feel Prowl’s systems humming tantalizingly just beyond his own, awaiting permission from his protocol suite to complete the connection between them. Jazz gave that permission, and the network between them opened with a rush, the current from the contact amped up by the fluid on his ports.

“ _Primus!_ ” Jazz swore.

Prowl threaded their fingers together, pulled Jazz down so their wrist ports, still unconnected, touched, each ready to accept the other’s corresponding jacks.

“More?” Prowl inquired. Jazz could feel him now, though, his surface thoughts and emotions and knew he wasn’t as calm as he sounded. Prowl wanted Jazz to say ‘yes’ to more, badly.

“Fragging tease,” Jazz groaned and felt Prowl’s amusement through their network. “Yes, I want more!”

They connected through their wrist ports, doubling the bandwidth on their private network connection. Carefully, Prowl provided still more, and more, offering a wealth of potential throughput the like of which Jazz had never experienced before. Prowl negotiated his way past Jazz’s firewalls equally carefully, simultaneously guiding Jazz through his. Jazz caught the fleeting sensation that Prowl could take/offer still more, that he wanted to.

“Want another port or two?” Jazz asked. It would open them up more to each other than was usual for a first interface, but he _knew_ Prowl, trusted him. He’d known and trusted Prowl longer than most first-time lovers knew each other.

“Oh,” Prowl breathed, delighted and touched by Jazz’s offer. “Yes, please!”

Jazz gave Prowl two more ports, on his arms, and these weren’t amped up with a charging fluid like his hips and wrists but the connection…Jazz hadn’t opened himself like this, gone this deep, with someone in so long he couldn’t remember.

“Ah,” Prowl sighed, optics shutting off in pleasure. “Jazz. So good…”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, shifting just slightly so he could take his weight on his elbows. “Gonna show you.” He locked his joints to keep himself upright and let his head fall forward. He wasn’t going to bother with sending commands to his somatic system. He had a better use for system memory right now.

“Mmm, please.”

Prowl let Jazz in, accepted the packet of sensory data his lover pushed across their connection, extracting the information almost as soon as he’d received it and sending back his own. Jazz unpacked it, transmitted his response to Prowl’s data back, got Prowl’s response in return and on and on and on… Data transmitted and charge built until they were experiencing each other in real time, almost no barriers left between them at all – and in time, there would be _none_ because that was what they wanted, needed, the totality of each other and – and –

Jazz shouted when the overload hit, surging through every wire, crackling through their systems, tripping one and a klik later the other into a soft reboot, breaking the connection.

Prowl, probably because his systems were much more powerful, recovered first, disconnecting their cables from one wrist so he could stroke Jazz’s back. Jazz’s joint lock had been released when he rebooted, and he was slumped on top of Prowl. Jazz was pretty sure Prowl didn’t mind. He was also pretty sure there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it if Prowl did.

“…mmm.” Jazz had a whole queue of things he wanted to say, but that was about all he could manage.

“I agree,” Prowl said softly. “Go ahead and rest, darling.”

“Mm?” Jazz hoped Prowl could translate that as ‘I’m not too heavy, am I?’ because he couldn’t articulate any better than that.

“You’re fine.” Oh, good, he was able to translate it. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Jazz nuzzled him affectionately in response and let his optics shut off again. He could work with that, for a couple kliks at least.

***

They moved sometime in the night, curled up facing each other, fitting their structures together as best they could. Jazz woke up in the morning to find Prowl cuddled up against him, head on his chest. How about that? Prowl of Praxus, second-in-command of the Autobots, brilliant and fearsome tactician, strict senior officer, so reserved even _Jazz_ hadn’t picked up on his real feelings, was a cuddler. Jazz brushed his lips over the tip of the red chevron, smiling down at his lover. Prowl was still ‘charging, and Jazz used the moment to admire him. In all the time they’d known each other, Jazz didn’t think he’d ever seen Prowl sleeping and relaxed like this. Oh, conked out after a mission or long mega-cycles coordinating battle or put under in medbay, sure. In shutdown from neglecting to refuel a couple of times, definitely – walking in on _that_ a second time was what had made him start bringing Prowl fuel on a regular basis. Sleeping because he’d had a _fantastic_ evening and was warm and content? Nope. Not till now.

Firsts were a rare thing when you got to be Jazz’s age. One of the reasons he liked humans so much. They _always_ had something new.

Another first, he was going to get to see Prowl wake up adequately rested and refreshed. It started with a tiny shift of Prowl’s limbs, then a soft frown, and then the tactician’s optics came online, and he stretched a little. It was _adorable_.

“Mornin’, lover,” Jazz said softly, smiling.

“Mmm.” Prowl pressed a kiss to Jazz’s hood. “Good morning, sweetspark.”

There was a little hesitation before the endearment as if Prowl weren’t sure Jazz would like it. He did.

“’Sweetspark,’ hey,” Jazz said, kissing the chevron again. “I like the sound of that.”

Prowl smiled. “Good.”

Prowl nestled closer for a few nano-kliks, and it was such a sweet gesture Jazz felt his spark spin a little faster. It only lasted a moment though, then it was back to business. Well, it had to happen sometime. Jazz knew better than to begrudge any kind of peaceful interlude and – well, he didn’t really think anyone was listening but just in case, he thought a quick ‘thanks’ out to the universe, grateful to have had this night.

“Have you heard from any of the others?” Prowl asked, businesslike even when curled up in Jazz’s arms.

“Nah. Just woke up.” Jazz stroked Prowl’s arm. “Was watching you. Never got to see you sleep like that before.”

“You will again,” Prowl promised. “I’ll try and contact Prime again.”

“’Kay.” Jazz was content to lie there with Prowl pressed against him, stealing as much time as they could. “How’s your leg doing?” he asked after a few nano-kliks.

“My internal systems have completed repairs, and the remaining damage is cosmetic,” Prowl informed him. “I’ve received an update on our situation from the others. According to Optimus, it will take some time to clear the snow from the roads connecting this hangar to the one where the others took shelter, but Skyfire should be able to fly out in one-point-six cycles.”

“Oh.” Jazz was going to be sorry when their little interlude of privacy was over, but not too much. The shelter was still cramped, and there were some things he wanted to do with Prowl that needed space. “Back to reality, huh?”

“Yes, in time.” Prowl traced the curve of Jazz’s bumper, played with the dip of his headlights. “As we are safe and not immediately in need of medical attention, warmth, or fuel I recommended the humans be evacuated first. Our hangar will be cleared last.”

“Yeah?” Jazz slid a hand up Prowl’s back to find those magic door hinges again.

“Yes.” Prowl moved to kiss and nibble Jazz’s throat and collar fairing as he spoke. “We have some time left to ourselves. Here, isolated, and entirely alone.”

Jazz grinned. “Entirely at your mercy, huh?”

“You are.” Prowl was becoming more adventures, tracing the shape of Jazz’s structure, playing with different pressures on sensitive areas.

“Gonna have your way with me?” Jazz nudged Prowl in such a way as to suggest that he would really like the other mech on top of him sometime very soon, please and thank you.

“I am.” Prowl accepted Jazz’s suggestion, straightening up as far as the shelter would let him and looking down at Jazz with one hand on the other mech’s bumper as if for support – or to keep him in place. Jazz was okay with either one. “Have you any objections?”

‘Course he didn’t, this was an absolutely fragging _perfect_ way to start the day. “Not a one, Prowler, m’mech. Not a one.”

**Author's Note:**

> I spent way too much time thinking about the mechanics (hah!) of robot cuddling involved here instead of writing resumes and cover letters like I should.  
> \---  
> “Bandwidth is the maximum amount of data that can travel through a 'channel'. Throughput is how much data actually does travel through the 'channel' successfully.” - [Throughput and bandwidth difference?](https://stackoverflow.com/a/24246548), user3699997, StackOverflow, June 16, 2014. 
> 
> [Somatic systems](https://web.archive.org/web/20090807060930/http://www.mercksource.com:80/pp/us/cns/cns_hl_dorlands_split.jsp?pg=/ppdocs/us/common/dorlands/dorland/nine/20694579.htm) = voluntary nervous system in humans.


End file.
